


The Master's New Puppy

by NotSimplySusurrus



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Collars, Come Eating, Humiliation, Leg Humping, M/M, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Observed Masturbation, Pet Play, Praise Kink, Public Nudity, Puppy Play, The Year That Never Was (Doctor Who), Wetting, for a bit, kind of yourself but mostly the floor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21869050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSimplySusurrus/pseuds/NotSimplySusurrus
Summary: The title just about sums it up: the Master forces the Doctor to play puppy for a while.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 96





	The Master's New Puppy

**Author's Note:**

> I think my posting schedule has become about once every two months, but given that I'm free from uni rn, hopefully I can finish at least one more before I'm forced to return to my academic responsibilities. As always, love to hear what you think!

Aside from his usual cruelty, every now and again, a certain smile spread across the Master’s face, alerting the Doctor to a future of a whole new level of pain or humiliation—oftentimes: both. The Doctor tried his very best to keep all of the Master’s anger focused on him, but with each day’s passing, the Valiant seemed to become smaller and smaller with the Master’s temper flaring up more and more. The Doctor wasn’t sure just how much more he could take.

Today seemed to be fated to be one of those days, as the Master swaggered into the Doctor’s cell with that exact smile plastered across his face. The Doctor looked up at him, wondering what terrible ‘play’—as the Master referred to it—awaited him. The Master stood above the Doctor’s slumped-over form with both hands behind his back, looking down at a man he once called a friend from exactly the position of power he’d always longed to hold over him.

“Time to play, Doctor,” the Master said, still smiling that horrible smile that always—without fail—led to something awful. He nudged the Doctor with one of his shiny, black shoes. “Not died on me yet, have you?”

“Kosch, please not today,” the Doctor replied hoarsely. He licked his lips, finding them dry and cracked. He’d do just about anything for a drink of water, but the Master certainly didn’t need to know that.

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” The Master asked through gritted teeth, his whole body tense.

“Master, I—”

“What did I say?” The Master shouted, cutting the Doctor off. The Doctor drew his knees to his chest, worried that the Master would hit him.

“That’s not your name,” he said softly.

“That’s not my name,” the Master repeated, exhaling dramatically. “With such a big head, you’d think you could remember something so simple.”

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said.

“Trust me,” the Master revealed what he had behind his back, “you will be.” The Doctor stared up at him, eyes wide with fear…but he found the sight before him to be more confusing than worrisome. It was a rather large butt plug, which he’d experienced plenty of times before, but what was attached to the plug was what he couldn’t work out. It looked like fur, he supposed, but what purpose did the fur serve? “I’ve always wanted a puppy,” the Master said, brushing his finger over the isomorphic lock connected to the shackles keeping the Doctor’s wrists pinned above his head. The Doctor, only having recently gotten used to this, let his arms drop slowly.

“A puppy?” He asked, having another look at the plug and thinking that it did, in fact, look a lot like a tail.

“Turn around,” the Master said, ignoring the Doctor’s question. The Doctor turned over, holding himself up on his hands and knees as he’d done countless times before. He hissed in pain as the Master worked the plug inside of him without bothering with lube. The tickly feeling of the tail brushing against the back of his thighs almost managed to completely distract him from the burning pain in his arse. Moving, however, made it impossible to ignore. Though, as the Doctor made to stand up, the Master pushed him back to his hands and knees. “Puppies don’t walk on two legs, now do they?” He asked.

“I suppose they—”

“Puppies can’t talk, either,” the Master said, patting the Doctor on the head patronisingly. He knelt down beside the Doctor a moment to clasp a lacy, black collar with a silver charm that read ‘whore’ around the Doctor’s neck. The Doctor blushed, knowing how slutty he must look. While the Master tended to drag him places naked, this was much worse. The Master pulled a lead out of his pocket and attached it to the back of the Doctor’s collar. “Time for puppy’s walk.”

Having to crawl around with advisors and guards standing here and walking there during the long trip from his cell to the Master’s bedroom was downright undignified. The Doctor didn’t think he stopped blushing at any point during the so-called walk. He was even more surprised to find just how hard he’d gotten from the long, drawn-out humiliation.

“Is puppy thirsty?” The Master asked, unclipping the lead from the Doctor’s collar and shutting the door behind them.

“Woof?” The Doctor was uncertain just how he was expected to communicate if he couldn’t talk.

“Puppy sounds confused. Is he thirsty or not?” The Master asked, disappearing into his closet. He returned with two, pink dog bowls and that smile that made the Doctor’s blood run cold. The Doctor grimaced but was too thirsty to not play along.

“Woof!” All of this was so, very silly. The Doctor would rather the Master beat him bloody with a whip or a crop or anything else than be forced to do _this_.

“Good boy,” the Master praised, setting one of the bowls at the end of the bed and taking the other into the bathroom with him. When he returned, he walked slowly, eyes fixed on the bowl so as to not spill any water on the floor. As soon as the Master set it down, the Doctor scrambled over to it, sure he’d never see this much water in one place for a long time. He paused for a moment, glancing up at the Master for permission, as he did for most everything these days—sometimes looking up for approval when the Master wasn’t even with him. The Master sat down on the bed and reached down to pat his head again. “Drink up, puppy,” he said softly. At first, the Doctor tried his best to sip from the bowl, but he quickly learned that wasn’t going to work out well due to the shape of it. He sighed and swallowed his pride, trying his best to lap the water up with his tongue. As the Doctor tried his best to get as much water as he could before the Master took the bowl away from him again—which could be at any time, really, just for the sake of cruelty—the Master rubbed his head, scratching behind his ears now and again. Despite the burning humiliation of the whole situation, the Doctor had to admit that he liked the feeling.

“Woof.” The Doctor didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to do to communicate much more than yes or no, but he hoped the pleading look in his eyes was enough to convey to the Master that he was still thirsty. The Master offered the same smile that had gotten the Doctor into this situation and took the bowl without saying a word. But surprisingly, he went and got the Doctor something more to drink. Weary of the smile, the Doctor licked up this bowl of water much more slowly, thinking hard about how the Master could possibly use this to make his life any worse. It was humiliating, sure, but the Doctor couldn’t see how it could be any worse, really. At least the Master was petting him instead of hitting him and quenching his thirst instead of dehydrating him. In fact, he was so convinced that humiliation was the Master’s only goal that he accepted a third bowl of water.

“Is puppy hungry?” The Master asked, scratching the Doctor’s head affectionately. “Does my pretty puppy want something to eat?” The Doctor didn’t want to know what the Master would make him eat, but his stomach betrayed just how hungry he was, growling at the mention of the word ‘eat’. “Sounds like puppy is very hungry,” the Master mused, shifting on the bed. The Doctor didn’t want to look up—didn’t want to see the look on the Master’s face. “Come have a lick of _this_ bone,” the Master said, grabbing hold of the Doctor’s collar and forcing him to look up. He immediately noticed the tent in the Master’s trousers and tried to pull away. “Naughty puppy!” The Master viciously yanked the Doctor closer to him by way of the collar around his neck. The Doctor whimpered softly, pained by the pressure crushing his windpipe as he was forced to shuffle closer to the Master, who spread his legs. The Doctor had been forced to do this plenty of times before, but this time felt different—somehow more humiliating. He sighed, making to undo the Master’s fly only for the Master to push his hands away. “Puppies don’t have hands, do they?”

“Woof?” The Doctor cocked his head to the side, wondering how he was expected to continue. The Master chuckled and rubbed the Doctor’s head with his free hand. He pulled the Doctor closer by way of his collar and leant down toward him.

“Use your teeth,” the Master whispered. He relinquished his hold on the Doctor’s collar and sat back, looking down at the Doctor expectantly. The Doctor merely whimpered and looked away. “Aw, does puppy need some help?”

“Woof!” The Doctor nodded, even going so far as to wiggle his bum. The movement caused the plug to hit his prostate just right, and he moaned softly.

“Since my puppy’s so pretty, I’ll help him out,” the Master said, unbuttoning his trousers. “Come on, you can do the rest.” The Doctor rested his hands on the Master’s thigh’s tentatively, not wanting to be pushed away again. He leant down and slowly pulled the Master’s zipper down with his teeth. When he managed to pull the zipper all the way down, the Master had to come to his aid once again to free his erection. “Puppy seemed very hungry—no time to waste.” The Master placed his hand on the top of the Doctor’s head and pushed gently. Plenty happy to get this over with, the Doctor leant in close and tentatively licked up the Master’s shaft. “Good boy,” the Master said, sighing appreciatively. The Doctor was somewhat annoyed that hearing this pleased him, but he continued licking the underside of the Master’s shaft like a dog might a spoon of peanut butter—that is, until the Master had enough of his unintentional teasing and shoved the entire length down his throat. Still unused to the feeling, the Doctor gagged but made no other indication that he was unhappy or uncomfortable. Instead, he focused hard on keeping his teeth out of the way and breathing through his nose, hoping for it all to be over soon. He knew, however, the Master would find a way to drag the humiliation on for as long as possible—he always found a way.

While the Master made use of his throat, the Doctor began to feel uncomfortable in a different way. It now occurred to him why the Master had earlier given him as much water as he’d wanted—the Doctor desperately needed to relieve himself. He shifted, awkwardly tilting to one side in an attempt to lessen the pressure on his bladder. Finding this completely unhelpful, the Doctor whimpered, looking up at the Master to gauge whether or not this was exactly as he’d intended or some convenient side-effect of wanting the Doctor to play puppy. Without warning, the Master yanked the Doctor’s hair. The Doctor allowed himself to be pulled away from the Master’s cock, more than pleased to be able to breathe normally again.

“Let’s not rush this, shall we?” The Master asked, panting softly.

“Woof,” the Doctor, also panting, replied.

“Good boy.” The Master ruffled the Doctor’s hair, grinning down at him. The Doctor thought that he was enjoying this way too much to not force the Doctor to do this again in the future.

“Rruff,” the Doctor whimpered. He found himself shifting from side to side, trying his best not to think about how badly he needed the toilet.

“What’s the matter?” The Master asked. He watched the Doctor’s odd movements for a few moments before he understood. “Poor puppy,” the Master said with that faux pout which never failed to irritate the Doctor with just how patronising it was. “Did we not just have a walk, puppy? You’ll simply have to wait until I feel like having another.” The Doctor whimpered again, shaking his head.

“Need the toilet—please Master, I’m begging,” the Doctor said, far too desperate to mind the Master’s instruction not to talk. At first, the Master said nothing in response and grabbed the Doctor’s collar to drag him closer.

“Puppies. Can’t. Talk.” Each word was punctuated by a stinging swat on the arse. “Now, what _can_ puppies say?” The Master demanded.

“Woof,” the Doctor replied softly.

“You will wait. Is that understood?” The Master asked. The Doctor nodded, offering another soft bark to demonstrate that he could understand as much. “I hate to have to punish such a pretty puppy.” The Doctor didn’t think that was true, but he certainly made no indication of that to the Master. “Now, my puppy hasn’t had enough to eat, has he?”

“Ruff,” the Doctor shook his head. The Master smiled down at him, releasing the grip on his collar in favour of having hold of his hair, instead. The Master pulled the Doctor close to his cock again, and the Doctor begrudgingly started licking once more.

“Good boy,” the Master sighed. As with before, he soon tired of the teasing and had the Doctor take it all in his mouth once again. While the Master fucked his face, the Doctor tried his very best to focus on anything other than needing the toilet. Unfortunately for the Doctor, however, the only other thing he had to focus on was the humiliation of his current situation. Somehow this made him need relief even more. But he was determined to hold it, not wanting to give the Master any more ammo for humiliation or punishment.

And he almost managed it. Almost. Shortly after the Master finished in the back of his throat, the Doctor—much to his horror—lost control. He felt relieved in more ways than one—thinking it was of benefit to be naked in the moment. But those feelings of relief quickly dissipated when he remembered the Master was sitting right in front of him. The Doctor opened his mouth ready to beg for forgiveness before remembering he wasn’t allowed to talk and settled for a quiet, drawn-out whimper, instead.

“Did you just piss on my shoes?” The Master asked, cocking his head to the side. He seemed far more shocked than angry, staring down at the Doctor with a furrowed brow. The Master examined his shoes then the wet spot on the carpet. “Not on my shoes,” he mumbled. “On the floor.” He stared down at the floor for a few more moments and frowned. The Doctor watched him carefully, sure this would end poorly. The Master shook his head, appearing deep in thought and then—as if just remembering he was supposed to be cross with the Doctor for urinating on the floor—slapped the Doctor without warning. “Naughty, naughty puppy!” The Master stood, and the Doctor cowered immediately, worried about being kicked. Thankfully, the Master did not kick the Doctor, but he did grab hold of the back of his neck far more roughly than the Doctor would have liked. “Puppy is supposed to use the toilet outside.” The Master shoved the Doctor’s face into the soiled carpet. “Naughty puppy.” He continued to hold the Doctor down until the Doctor began to worry that even his oxygen bypass system would run out and he’d pass out in perhaps the most humiliating position he’d ever been in. “Has puppy learned his lesson?” The Master demanded.

“Wuuhf.” Unable to breathe and being forced so hard into the carpet made it difficult for the Doctor to get much noise out.

“Will puppy piss on my carpet ever again?” The Master pushed him down even more forcefully, so much so that the Doctor worried the Master may break his nose. “Answer me!”

“Arhhf!” Somewhere between a bark and a scream, the sound that came out of the Doctor barely sounded like it was possible to have come from such a highly-developed, bipedal creature as himself.

“He better not.” And with that, the Master released him, leaving the Doctor to collapse onto his side gasping for breath. “You know how much I hate to punish my puppy.” The Master had a seat back on the bed, watching the Doctor struggle to regain his breath with a mix of curiosity and mild amusement on his face. “My puppy did such a fine job pleasuring his Master before he was naughty.” The Master smiled that sinister smile that let the Doctor know he was about to be either in a lot of pain or deeply humiliated—oftentimes: both. The Doctor managed to sit up, resting back on his thighs with his hands on the ground in front of him so as to avoid punishment for not taking his role as ‘puppy’ seriously enough. “Usually puppies get told they’re naughty for humping their Master’s legs, but you’re not just any puppy, now are you?”

“Woof,” the Doctor shook his head, having to stop himself from letting out an exasperated sigh—after all, puppies don’t sigh like that and the Master would surely label it ‘attitude’.

“Then get to it, puppy,” the Master said, that smile still spread across his face. The Doctor crawled over to him—none too happy to be in this situation—and sat heavily on the Master’s shoe. This movement pushed the tail plug right up against his prostate, making him moan softly. Then the Doctor merely sat a moment, unsure of how to continue. “Puppy, now this is the easy part.” The Master offered one of his hands, which the Doctor accepted. He set the Doctor’s hand on his thigh then gestured for the other one, which the Doctor obliged. Having a steady grip on the Master’s thigh, the Doctor rolled his hips, dragging the leg of the Master’s trousers up as he went. The fabric was just coarse enough for the perfect amount of friction, and the Doctor supposed that he ought to enjoy himself if he’s was going to have to do this at all. He rolled his hips again, gasping softly. He was surprised by just how much he liked the feeling. It hurt ever so slightly, but somehow that made the whole experience all the better.

“Woooof,” he sighed, closing his eyes and resting his cheek against the Master’s knee. One more roll of his hips was all it took for the Doctor to want to get a steady rhythm going. As these thoughts crossed his mind, his body more or less took over—hips seeming to have a mind of their own, bucking up against the Master’s leg in earnest. Despite his enjoyment of the Doctor playing puppy, the Master didn’t stop the Doctor from moaning or gasping—or, at times, whimpering bits and pieces of his name. No, the Master had to admit that he liked all of that quite a lot.

“Such a good boy,” the Master said, giving the Doctor an approving pat on the head. The Doctor, however, couldn’t have responded if he wanted to, sweaty and panting and far too close to the edge to remember that he was supposed to be the Master’s puppy. “Cum for me—but of course, puppy will have to clean up his mess.” The Doctor tried his best to nod and show the Master he understood. Some part of him, deep down, liked being treated this way more than his conscious mind would let him admit to himself. He came with a shout that resembled a howl—a little bit, anyway—and slumped against the Master’s leg. “It would seem that my puppy is a filthy, little whore.” The Master pet the Doctor’s head, ruffling his hair and lightly scratching his scalp.

“Thank—uh ruff?” The Doctor said, pushing himself back to be able to look up at the Master.

“You’ve never been good at following direction of any kind,” the Master said with a smile—not _the_ smile, but a soft, perhaps even genuinely happy smile. The Doctor thought it could even be described as ‘loving’, but that, of course, was a silly thought. “Clean up your mess, puppy,” the Master said. The Doctor resumed his earlier position on his hands and knees to lean down and lick the Master’s trouser leg and shoe clean. The Master lifted his leg to examine the Doctor’s handiwork. “That’s certainly going to stain.”

“Rruff.” The Doctor couldn’t help but smile, confused about how gently the Master was treating his ‘puppy’ but happy nonetheless. The Master grabbed his collar and dragged him up onto his knees to kiss him, which was just as shocking to the Doctor as all the petting and praise. When the Master had had enough and pulled away, he stared at the Doctor a few moments, studying his face. He ran his thumb over the Doctor’s cheek before releasing him—a delicate sensation that left the Doctor feeling like butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach. Of course, the Master had made the Doctor kiss him before on numerous occasions, but this tender moment felt different than the other times.

“Puppy, I think it’s time for bed,” the Master said. “You may sleep with me—at the foot of the bed like a good puppy does.”

“Woof!” The Doctor wiggled his hips, making the tail plug wag from side to side. He was happy to play puppy for as long as this gentle stint of the Master’s would last. Afterall, it was the nicest the Master had been to him in hundreds of years, and the Doctor wasn’t about to squander that away. Being a ‘puppy’ was easier than being himself, anyway.


End file.
